


Breathe Me

by rukichu



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek is sad, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Stiles knows what to do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rukichu/pseuds/rukichu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing with wolves is--they’re not supposed to be alone. </p>
<p>And A year after Laura’s death, Derek is right where he had started. Lost, confused, and all by himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe Me

The thing with wolves is--they’re not supposed to be alone.

When he was younger, Derek shared a room with his sister and two of their cousins and he would fall asleep every night listening to the sounds of their heartbeats, counting the number of breathes they took.

And then there was the fire and it was only him and Laura.

He would never admit to anyone how much he relied on her during those next few years. Would never admit to curling close against her body, his head pressed against her chest to feel the rise and fall of her steady breathing. To have solid proof she was still living; still there with him. He would have done anything for her, except go back to Beacon Hill where all that was left was the charred remains of a house that was once his home and the memories of his biggest mistake. They had argued, they had fought. She had caught him by his hair, pulling his head back and exposing his throat to her bared teeth.

 

“I’m going.” She had growled, breath hot against his skin and he shivered from the dominance in her tone. “I’m tired of running, Derek. Once you start running, you never stop. I have to fix all of this.” Even if she was right, he could never bring himself to go back to that town.

But then she was dead and suddenly Derek’s world was silent.

And being alone hurt worst of all, but everyone he’d ever loved had left him and maybe it was something about him, but he couldn’t keep having the world ripped out from under his feet. So he would just go it alone. Find the alpha alone. Live alone because at least he couldn’t leave himself.

He hated himself for thinking, even for a split second, that maybe he and Scott--even Scott’s little sidekick--could work together. It was pretty clear how those two felt about him even without getting him thrown in jail. But it didn’t make it hurt any less every time Scott told him to leave them the fuck alone.

It hurt when Scott joined his pack, only to deny him again.

But it hurt worse when it was his own pack.

The three he had changed, had taught, had rescued and worried about had abandoned him. Left him when it got too hard and all he could do was ask himself “What did I do wrong? What is it about me that everyone hates so much? Why does everyone always leave?”

And so there he sat, packless save for Isaac who seemed ready to jump ship at any given moment and Peter who was likely still evil, looking down at the small grave marker he left for Laura. She would have been a better alpha. She would have known how to handle the onslaught of danger, how to chase away the overwhelming sense of failure. It all he was really, always had been.

A year after Laura’s death and he was right where he had started. Lost, confused, and all by himself. And all he could do was howl to wolves who would never listen.

 

Stiles didn’t know how Scott did it. For three nights straight there had been some wretched, pain-filled howling racketing through the woods, sometimes loud enough to wake him in the middle of the night. Other times it kept him up until the early morning. He’d never heard a creature sound so distraught and broken. It took him back to a time when all his father did was drink, and the only comfort he could find was in curling up under a pile of laundry that never made it to the machine. He couldn’t imagine what the creature must be going through to cause that kind of anguish. And for all that he could hear the terrible sound all through the night and into the morning, he couldn’t imagine Scott wasn’t hearing it tenfold.

 

“I’ve just been ignoring it.” Scott answered when Stiles brought it up one day at school. Stiles knit his eyebrows together, mouth working open and closed a few times in confusion.

“You’ve been... what?” Scott shrugged his shoulders and slumped more in his chair.

“I’ve been ignoring it. It’s only Derek anyways. It’s really not that important.” He wouldn’t meet Stiles’ eyes, choosing instead to glance back and forth between his desk and floor in what might have been a guilt. Stiles felt his jaw clench, felt his hands fist around the edge of the chair as he regarded his best friend.

“What if he’s hurt, Scott? What if there’s some new big bad out there and it’s got him and is, I don’t know, torturing him again and your plan is to ignore it? In favor of doing what?”

“He’s not our problem anymore, Stiles! He’s not in charge of us and I am not a part of his stupid pack! Whatever is going on with Derek, he can figure out for himself and I really don’t care anymore. Hasn’t he ruined enough as it is?” He was talking about Allison’s mom, Stiles was sure. Which he supposed he could understand. But at the same time, Allison’s psycho aunt burned the entire Hale family alive so really, where was the line between killing and revenge?

Stiles shook his head, looking down at his hands and taking in a deep breath as he slowly turned around to face the front of the class again. Because he knew that he might be overreacting and that nothing he said would change Scott’s mind anyways. But already his own mind was turning over and over an idea what would probably end with his body, mangled in a ditch somewhere on the edge of town.

But one thing Stiles had learned about himself was that once he got an idea in his head, there was no convincing himself otherwise.

 

The air had a crispness that the tail end of fall always brings. The sun had just started to set behind the trees and the forest itself was nearly silent save for Stiles’ footsteps through the dead leaves and underbrush as he made his way towards the burnt remains of the Hale house. He knew that if Derek was there he would have heard him already, but the older man had yet to make an appearance. Stiles stood out just before the first step up to door and stared up at what once must have been a beautiful home. He tried to imagine what it was like with the whole Hale family living there. How many children had there been? Stiles had only ever heard Derek talk of his sister Laura and he himself had never felt comfortable snooping through old Beacon Hills High yearbooks to see for sure. It felt too intrusive. He remembered Mrs. Hale being nice enough. Remembered, albeit very vaguely, that she brought over dinner the week his mother passed away. He didn’t even remember what she looked like, just that she had gotten down on one knee to look him in the eye when she told him how sorry she was about his mother. He thought maybe, if he remembered correctly, she had had the same eyes as Derek.

“Stiles,” He heard his name called from somewhere around the left side of the house and turned to see Derek coming up to him from the back. He had the same mean look he always had in place but felt there was a rough edge of exhaustion around his eyes. Maybe Stiles was just making it up though. Maybe Derek just felt angry all the time. His eyes narrowed as he got closer to the younger man, shoulders pulled tight and tense. “What are you doing here?” There was a roughness to his voice, raw and hoarse.

“I... I came to check up on you, I guess.” He replied, hands shoved in his pockets as he shifted awkwardly back and forth. Derek had a bad habit of making Stiles feel like no matter what he says, it was wrong and a little offensive. He has always made Stiles feel awkward and just a little bit nervous which usually caused the rambling.

“You know, we just.... we haven’t seen you around in a while. You haven’t been creeping in any corners or dark alley ways or sneaking up on random teenagers when they least expect it. Just... was wondering where you went...” Derek’s eyes usually never left his own, staring at him with a terrifying intensity that was used to make people feel uncomfortable. But as Stiles’ talked, Derek’s eyes drifted down away from his face to stare at his own shoes. Stiles noticed that his jeans were caked with mud up his calves, his hands covered in dirt as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Scott made it pretty clear that you guys were done with me.” He said, and Stiles could have sworn he saw his jaw twitch as he clenched it.

“Well, Scott doesn’t always have the best of plans like, ever. In fact, I’d argue that most of what he says is a crock of shit anyways. Besides, you never listen to Scott. When have you ever listened to Scott?” He took a couple of steps closer wetting his lower lip as he approached the older man. Maybe he had lost his mind. Maybe he was just looking for some way to feel useful to make up for the fact that ever since Scott was bit by Peter and their whole world was turned upside down, the most help Stiles could provide was comedic relief and sarcastic banter with the enemy. Whatever it was that was forcing him to take a step forward was the same part of him that stayed up listening to the horrible howling night and wishing, so desperately, that he could somehow fix whatever was broken in that tortured animal.

“Maybe I think that what Scott has to say is stupid. Maybe I don’t want you to just up and vanish.... maybe I’m not done with you.” He winced internally even as he said it, knowing that he’d probably get an eye roll from the older man. But Derek just raised his eyes from the ground, his lips falling open slightly as he blinked rapidly at Stiles a few times before clearing his throat.

“But why?” Stiles shrugged, finally stepping close enough to Derek that if he had wanted to, he could reach out and touch his shoulder. Maybe see if the touch would loosen any of the tension he could see tight under the muscles.

“Isn’t that kind of our thing? You save my ass, I save yours? It’s like... the way of the universe. The way it’s supposed to be. If we went against the universe, I'm pretty sure horrible things will happen so maybe you should stop asking so many questions and just go with it." Stiles gave a one shoulder shrug, hoping to whatever God was listening that Derek wouldn't be able to tell how uncomfortable, how terrified he was of what the older man's reaction would be. He’d made a habit of not pushing his way too far into Derek's business. Sure, he purposefully goaded the older man on multiple occasions, much in the same way people went to London and messed around with the guards at Buckingham palace. And okay, there was the one time Stiles purposefully played Carly Rae Jepsen so loud even Scott complained. But this was different. This was something real and serious and the howling in the woods hinted at something dark and and broken within the older man. And Stiles had to know, he had to know what it was because unlike Scott, he couldn't just ignore away something like this. Not when it resonated in his chest and made him anxious and shaky at night.

Derek looked up at Stiles before letting his eyes flicker back to the house. He was shifting his weight a little, jaw twitching ever so slightly in a way that suggested he wasn't quite sure what to do with Stiles standing there, forcing his way into Derek's life. The older man let out a little sigh, his shoulders sagging just barely, before he jerked his head in the direction of the house.

"You... can come in if you want to." He didn't wait for Stiles to follow him as he made his way up to the porch, feet thunking down heavy on each step and dislodging chunks of dirt. Stiles chewed on his lower lip for just a moment before following the older man through the door.

Stiles had only been in the old Hale house a couple of times before. The place had that heavy, sour feel in the air that death and devastation so often brought. Stiles knew because it was the same feeling that he got from the upstairs guest bathroom. It wasn't just from the stench of rotting, charred wood that wafted through every corner still intact. It was the tension in Derek's shoulders from just walking in the door. It was the lighter spaces on the walls that Stiles was sure used to be the place of picture frames before the fire. It was a space lost in time, the remnants of a place that once was, of a home. Again, he was struck with the image of what Derek must have been like in the _before_. Before the fire. Before Laura.

Did he smile or laugh more? Was he closer to his mother or father? Was he the youngest or was he the big brother to other Hale children? Did he have a favorite movie or tv show character? The more Stiles thought about it, the more he realized how little they actually knew about Derek Hale. Stiles could name a list of Lydia's favorite interests and activities, could name her favorite movie every year since 2002 and she hardly ever looked at him even since their social circles had overlapped. Stiles and Derek might not have had the chance for heartfelt discussions and sure, maybe most of the time they didn't even really like each other. But he could say with absolute certainty that when it came down to the wire, he could trust Derek with his life. That if things got ugly, they could go to Derek and he would help them no matter how many times Scott insisted they weren't pack.

Despite what Derek attempted to project, he was one of the good guys. Even when the lines between good and evil in this town were a little blurred.

There was a mattress shoved upright in the corner of what was probably a living room at one point. A pile of blankets was near it with an open duffel bag that looked like it was full of clothes, a few t shirts strewn out across the top. The mattress was dingy and thin and the wallpaper in the room was curling and torn. Stiles couldn't imagine actually staying an extended period of time in a place like this let alone sleeping here, especially with all the bad memories the house held.

"Whatever happened to your creepy, abandoned train depot, huh? I mean sure, it wasn't exactly high living but it was a little more... discrete than your old home. Don't the Argents know you still frequent this place?"

"That was a pack home. Since there’s no more pack, there’s no need for a home for one. The Argents have since moved on from here. For now at least. If they come back, I'll move again."

"Is that just what you plan to do? Keep moving from place to place for forever? Isn't that just like running?" Derek didn't answer, just crossed his arms over his chest and pointedly looked at the space just above Stiles' head. Stiles felt frustration sneak up on him as he continued to take in the blacked walls and rotting floorboards.

"Don't you think it's about time you start putting down roots again? I mean it's been like... a year since you got back here and--" And suddenly it hit Stiles like a punch in the gut. Because it had been a year, almost to the day, that he and Scott had wandered into the woods looking for the corpse of a girl they never thought they'd be so closely entangled with. It had been a year since Peter bit Scott, since Stiles found out that werewolves were real. A year since Derek's sister was murdered and her body mutilated to lure him out of hiding. The realization made something dark and heavy twist in his gut as he took in the dried mud along Derek's arms and legs. Stiles' never knew if the body had been released back to Derek after he was cleared of the murder charges or what exactly it was that happened with Laura. Was Derek able to rebury her? Did he restring and spiral the wolfs bane around her grave? Had he been out there with her, or where she would have been, when he howled alone in the woods?

Derek's eyes and drifted down to the floor as he shifted, his jaw clenching and grinding.

"I haven't put down roots because there's no reason for me to. Not after... An Alpha with no pack might as well be an Omega." He turned around to face the wall opposite Stiles as he began to toe off his shoes and Stiles didn't have to be a wolf to feel the tension, the frustration, the self-loathing rolling off of the older man in waves. He thought back to that night not so long ago in the warehouse with Jackson. How Scott had pried open Derek's jaw and forced him to bite Gerard. He could still remember so distinctly the look of betrayal that the Alpha had shot Scott, the look of honest disbelief. The moment of prone vulnerability when Scott outright told him he was not his Alpha, the moment of devastation Stiles caught before Derek shot his guard up and closed off. He hadn't thought on it much, too distracted by his own devastating loss at the ridiculous love fest between Jackson and Lydia, but that night seemed to really have done a number on the resident Hale.

"You still have people here though. I know Erica and Boyd have wandered off, but what about Isaac? He seems like he's sticking pretty close?" Derek turned to lean against the wall, arms still crossed over his chest as he stared out at a broken window.

"For now. He's uneasy. It's his nature to be unsure. But Scott is easy with him and authoritative... he could be swayed. He's swaying now. If it came down between Scott and myself, there would be no contest."

"Well, what about Peter? Someone kind of has to make sure he doesn't go all psycho murder streak again, right? And who better than you? You're like our resident badass or something." Stiles could practically feel Derek roll his eyes, even if he couldn't see him.

"Peter won't stay for long. Or if he does, it's not for something good. He isn't going to be joining any pack either. Not with me."

"Then.... then what about me?" He hadn't really meant to say it, but the moment he did, Derek's head swiveled around and his eyes locked onto the younger man's. Stiles felt uncomfortable and fought down the urge to play it off with sarcasm. Instead, he swallowed down his anxiety and raised his eyes to Derek's.

"What? You thought just because Scott decided to throw a hissy fit, that meant me too?"

"But you're... you're part of his pack. You protect each other."

"We've known each other since we were practically fetuses, of course we're going to protect each other. But no one tells me what to do, except maybe my dad around Christmas. Besides... I've protected you on a couple of occasions kind of. And you've protected me." Derek's eyebrows knitted together as he regarded Stiles, his jaw working again as he took apart what had been said.

"But...you hate me." It sounded so small and juvenile even to Stiles' ears, he honestly had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, knowing it was probably not the right time.

"I never said I hated you. You terrified me for a while, and I still think it wouldn't kill you to smile every now and then. You're kind of bossy and you're a total pain in the ass at least 80% of the time I'm around you and sometimes I have the urge to push you over, just to see you fumble once, but I don't hate you. It's a complicated relationship and Scott would probably weep from disbelief if he heard me saying it, but I've kind of gotten used to having you around. It feels... weird not having you lurking. Kind of...wrong somehow." Derek's expression didn't really change as Stiles went on, save for his eyes. Because the one thing that Stiles had learned over these past few months was that no matter how much the Alpha tried to keep a stoic, cold, sarcastic mask in place, his eyes betrayed him every time. It was the one place that all the hardships, all the loss, all the running hadn't hardened and in that moment as Stiles stood in silence watching Derek process, he saw something shudder in those eyes. Something shift and want and crave, something vulnerable and open that reminded him of his more ignorant classmates. Something young and innocent.

"I'm not saying I think we should be best friends and braid each others hair and cry over The Vow. All I'm saying is it would be nice to have you around a little more. Regardless of what Scott says." He hesitated, but took a couple steps forward and just let his knuckles barely brush over Derek's bicep; just to let him know he meant it, that he was serious.

The silence started to feel heavy just as the sound of rain started to sound on the dried leaves of the forest. Derek shook his head and cleared his throat, eyebrows furrowing for a moment before he smoothed his features.

"You should probably get going. Otherwise the road down to Main Street is going to get too muddy." Stiles frown, bit the inside of his lip and stood his ground. He shifted more to the left until he was standing directly in front of Derek, their toes almost touching. He ducked his head, trying to catch the older man's eyes, trying to forced him to accept the reality that Stiles was here, that he was staying, that he wasn't going to turn tail and book it when things got a little sketchy.

"What if I don't want to go?" he very nearly whispered. He wrapped a hand around Derek's forearm, his fingers pressing just barely in against the skin. Derek's eyes flickered up to his own, the color a blended spiral of blues and greens and golds and greys, filled to the brim with so many emotions that Stiles wouldn't be able to start picking them all out. The older man visibly swallowed before he nodded tightly, jaw set.

"Okay. Okay, you can stay."

 

Not much time later, as the storm began it's crescendo, Stiles found himself laying on his side on the same dingy mattress he had been eying early. Derek was at his back, curled up on his side and facing the wall. Stiles could feel his body heat even across the space between them. His body craved to run a hand along the Alpha's spine, to soothe the shuddering muscles under his warm skin. He fought to resist the urge, not wanting to push his luck more than he already had. He didn't know how he lucked into this, how he'd managed to wedge his way far enough under Derek's skin to get him to allow this, but for the moment the woods were silent save for the rain.

"She would have been twenty-seven next month." Derek suddenly whispered, voice soft like a prayer. Stiles didn't have to ask to know exactly who he was talking about. He had seen pictures of Laura Hale across the kitchen table as his dad worked. Pictures of her _before_. She'd been as beautiful as Derek was handsome. Her eyes the kind of hazel that made people envious and took their breath away at the same time. She had looked like Derek in a lot of ways, too. Again, Stiles found himself wondering from which side of the family they got their looks.

Derek did not turn to look at him, but Stiles gave into the earlier urge and pressed his hand along the older man's shoulder all the same. There was nothing he could say to ease away the guilt, the anger, the sadness. There was nothing to be said in the wake of a loss so devastating. So he just pressed his hand against Derek's skin and moved himself closer into his space. He let his fingers slide down the length of the older man's arm, against the crook of his elbow, wrist. There was a moment, a beat, before Derek wrapped his own fingers around Stiles', holding them against his skin as and pulled the younger man's arm around his waist, keeping it in place. It was the only place they were touching, Stiles' arm pressed against Derek's side and stomach, their fingers messily curled together, not quite holding hands. But the tension seeped out of Derek’s muscles a little, melting away into the sound of the rain.

Stiles didn't know if things would be different in the morning. He didn't know if he had convinced Derek to stay or if letting himself into the Alpha's home, into his space, into his breathing room, was going to backfire on him or what it would mean. All he knew for certain was that for tonight, for any night that Derek would let him be here, the woods would be silent of his mourning.

The rain continued to fall against the leaves, but the only other sound was the sound of their heartbeats, pounding in time with one another.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, this is my first attempt at writing Teen Wolf anything so weh. I hope it all turned out okay. I'm a sucker for a sad Derek and a snuggley Stiles so... this happened. Could all potentially be part of a series. But we'll see.


End file.
